Unwritten
by Clara Barton
Summary: Some lessons are hard to learn, and sometimes you can't learn them in a classroom.


From Greeneyes-Softsighs tumblr prompt: "Duo is a 'punk/anti establishment" homeless youth living in San Francisco/Berkeley. He trolls around on Berkeley's campus fucking with the students and basically lives out of the bathroom of the comic book store on Shattuck"

Warnings: angst, language, sex

Pairings: 2x3

_Unwritten_

He showed up one month into the semester.

Trowa walked into his Tudor-Stuart history course and saw the guy sitting in the front row, saw one of his long legs dangling over the front of the desk and his fingers laced together behind his head as he leaned back in the desk chair and laughed at something the prof said.

As a rule, Trowa was obscenely early to classes. He liked order, routine, and his routine of arriving for his first class of the day twenty minutes early, of taking the time to double-check his daily schedule and make sure he had everything done, assignments, readings - to make sure he was ready for the rest of the day - that routine was destroyed by the guy's presence.

By Trowa's inability to ignore him as Trowa took his normal seat at the back of the lecture hall and pulled out his planner only to have his attention drawn back to the guy as he laughed again.

He didn't look like a student - he had no backpack, no books or papers or any signs whatsoever of being a student. In fact, he looked like one of the militant delinquents that hung out near Shattuck street. In fact, Trowa was positive he _was_ one of them. He had seen him there, had seen the guy hanging out on the street corner and even browsing the comics at Fantastic Comics a few times.

Now that Trowa took the time to look it was obvious - there was no forgetting this guy - not his long braid of hair that was slightly uneven because the left side of his head was shaved close to his scalp, not the tattooed tear drop by the corner of his right eye or his studded ears and the hints of tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of his faded black t shirt.

Trowa was so distracted by him, by his slouched position in the chair, his casual conversation with the prof, the crinkle of his eyes as he laughed, that twenty minutes passed without his noticing.

As the prof lectured Trowa found himself still unable to focus, still unable to tear his gaze away from the guy in the front row who, despite clearly not being a student, was more intently listening to the prof's lecture on Henry VIII's early reign more than any other student in the classroom. He was even nodding along at some points, frowning or shaking his head at others and Trowa was fascinated.

By him.

By the long haired street punk who garnered disdainful looks from the other students as class ended, as they filed out muttering or pointing or glancing at him for too long.

The guy just ignored them, just continued to sit with his leg thrown over the desk and his hands laced behind his hair and once most of the students were gone he and the prof started talking again, more animated this time, and as Trowa packed up the blank pages of the notes he failed to take that morning, he listened.

"...but really. Henry VIII basically fucked it up for the Stuarts. You don't get to go around killing your wives and executing almost all of your top advisors without people thinking you're a little crazy. And then you have Charles come along with his I'm appointed by God bullshit and of course people are going to say nah, brah. Because - seriously - if God went around appointing people and they knew what that libidinous fuck Henry had done less than a hundred years ago - no one wants to play that God likes me best game."

Trowa found himself fighting back a grin. He was funny, the guy. Funny and smart.

And he was looking at Trowa, his blue gaze narrowed in a challenge.

"Something funny, Snoopy?"

Trowa arched an eyebrow, but then he turned to the prof.

"Dr. Howard, can I schedule a meeting with you next week to talk about my paper?"

The prof nodded and pulled out his phone.

"Tuesday during my office hours?" The prof suggested.

Trowa nodded.

"Thank you."

Howard frowned as he looked at the phone.

"Shit. I'm going to be late for the faculty meeting. Catch ya later, Max."

The guy raised his hand.

"Later Howie. I might come back next week."

Max eyed Trowa, looking him over and Trowa felt as though he was being judged, weighed or calculated and he fought back a shiver.

"You wanna buy me a coffee?" Max asked.

Trowa frowned. He hadn't been expecting that question. Then again - what had he been expecting?

Trowa checked his watch. He had an hour before he needed to be at his next class.

"I guess?"

Max snorted a laugh and stood up, stretching languidly and Trowa couldn't help but look at the slim line of flesh between Max's t-shirt and loose, low slung jeans when he stretched his arms above his head.

"Just coffee, Snoopy. I ain't going to let you fuck me."

Trowa felt himself blush and he met Max's blue gaze.

"My name is Trowa Barton."

"Nice ta meet ya, Snoopy. I'm Duo Maxwell."

"Max?"

Duo shrugged.

"'s what Howie calls me - but you can call me Duo, Snoopy."

"Trowa."

Duo smirked.

"I could just call you Barty."

Trowa wondered why the hell he was doing this, but as he walked out of the classroom, Duo fell into step beside him, his gait somehow conveying an utter lack of respect for the campus around him, probably for the world in general.

"Who are you anyway?" Trowa asked him when they had ordered coffees and a huge brownie at Philz and sat down to enjoy.

Trowa was a little surprised when Duo split the brownie in half and shoved the larger portion his way before taking the smaller portion for himself.

"Who the hell are you?" Duo turned the question around, speaking with his mouth full.

Trowa scowled.

"I'm me."

Duo chuckled.

"Yeah, well. I'm me."

"You aren't a student at Berkeley."

"Ah, so we're defining what I am by what I'm not?"

"How do you know Dr. Howard?"

Duo shrugged.

"We met. Found out we had something in common."

Trowa tried to imagine what his admittedly odd-ball history prof had in common with this laid back, tattooed punk. How on earth had they even met in the first place?

"History," Duo supplied with a shake of his head.

"So you sit in on classes?"

Duo shrugged one shoulder and polished off his half of the brownie.

Trowa pushed his half in his direction and Duo arched an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to eat it," Trowa said. "I don't care for sweats."

"That's like you saying you don't care for oxygen, dude," Duo said. He wrapped the brownie up in a napkin and set it to the side.

"Do you live around here?"

"Are you writing a fucking expose on me?"

Trowa fell silent. Why was he asking so many questions - why did he care? Clearly Duo had just used him for a free meal and -

Duo sighed.

"Jesus, Snoopy, don't look so tragic. I hang out around Fantastic Comics."

"I've seen you there."

Duo nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah. I know. Seen you around. Hard to forget those green eyes."

Trowa looked at him in confusion. Duo held his gaze for a long moment and then shook his head.

"Your people skills need some serious work, Snoopy," he muttered and finished his coffee. "Thanks for the eats."

Duo stood up and picked up the wrapped up brownie.

"Will I see you again?"

Duo grinned and shrugged.

"Miss me already?"

And then he left, glancing over his shoulder and waving at Trowa as he stepped back out onto the street.

-o-

Duo didn't come back to class the next week, or the week after, and by the first week of November Trowa decided to look for him.

Duo had said he hung out around Fantastic Comics, so Trowa went by the comic book store, allowing himself to be distracted by the newest Marvel issues for half an hour before he worked up the nerve to approach the group of homeless young men and women who hung out by the park one block off Shattuck street.

He scanned over the tattooed, pierced people and looked for a long braid of hair. They were clumped together, eating and talking, a few kicking around a flat soccer ball, and a few started to look his way.

One of them, a Chinese guy with what looked like a dozen silver studs in each of his ears, a bar through his left brow and dragon tattoos on his forearms shoved away from his group and approached Trowa.

"You lost?" He asked, his voice dark and threatening.

"No. Just looking for someone."

The man looked him over with a sneer.

"Well, whoever you're looking for ain't here. So fuck off."

Trowa frowned and opened his mouth to speak but the Chinese man stepped close, close enough for Trowa to smell the old, acrid cling of tobacco smoke on his clothes and close enough for their chests to bump and Trowa to stumble back and trip.

People laughed at him and the Chinese man smirked down at him.

"Making new friends, Fei?"

Trowa turned at the sound of the familiar voice and saw Duo strolling across the grass towards them. He was wearing the same jeans, the same faded black t-shirt as last time and Trowa wondered if he was cold. And then he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

"Nah. This asshole was just leaving."

"Really? But you just got here, Snoopy."

Trowa felt his heart pound. Duo remembered him.

Duo stepped close and offered him a hand up.

Trowa stared at the outstretched hand for a moment but then he accepted it, surprised by Duo's strength when he hauled him up to his feet.

Fei arched an eyebrow and Duo shot him a look.

"Fucking queer… you've got shitty taste, Duo," Fei muttered but then he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Duo stared after him for a moment and then looked back at Trowa.

"Miss me?"

Trowa had to nod.

Duo laughed.

"Jesus, Snoopy. You believe in love at first sight or some shit or do you just not have any friends?"

"I don't have any friends."

Duo sobered up and shook his head.

"Right, well, I gotta go help a friend out with some shit."

Trowa felt cheated. He'd found Duo - he had found him and survived an encounter with Fei and that was _it_?

Duo must have noticed. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What? You want to tag along?"

Trowa shrugged.

"I'm done with classes for the day."

"Yeah, okay." Duo shrugged. "Come on, Snoopy."

Helping out a friend turned out to be repairing the kitchen sink for an elderly woman three blocks away. An elderly woman who insisted on giving Duo and Trowa milk and cookies and a bag of groceries to Duo as they left.

"How do you even know her?" Trowa asked.

"Ran into her a few weeks ago. I check up on her when I can." Duo shrugged and looked through the bag as they walked. His face split into a wide grin. "Ah, bless her heart." He held up a Slim Jim. "She remembered."

Trowa watched Duo tear into the jerky, watched him sigh happily and close his eyes. He looked like he was having an orgasm.

Duo opened his eyes and found Trowa's attention still on him. Duo arched an eyebrow and held out the bag.

"Want something?"

Trowa shook his head.

"I can eat in the caf later."

"The caf." Duo made a face. "I checked that place out once. Shit's noisy as hell and the food is like… hell, man, it's as bland and prepackaged as the rest of you fucks."

"Thanks?"

Duo chuckled and shook his head.

"I just call it like I see it." He reached out and plucked at Trowa's sweater.

"Fancy clothes, fancy school - fancy ideas about your place in society, yeah? Prepackaged. Bland."

"So you're different."

Duo shrugged.

"Ain't go no fancy clothes or fancy school and I sure as shit don't have fancy ideas about my place in society."

"Why not?"

"Because fuck society? Fuck those people who get to tell me what I need to do with my life."

"What about your family?"

"What about them? You already saw them - hell, you even got to get cozy with Fei."

"Your real family."

"They are my real family. You think biology is more important? You think some drunk assholes fucking one night and then ditching me nine months later is more important that the guy who'd cut your throat and help me hide your body if he thought you'd fucked me up?"

The words, and Duo's tone, made Trowa frown. He knew he had had a relatively sheltered life, knew that he was privileged and yes, he was bland - certainly in comparison to Duo. He wondered how Duo did it though, how he lived day to day relying on those people - or food from strangers like Trowa, or favors to old ladies. There was no order, no structure and no routine. It would drive Trowa mad.

"But what about the future? What are you going to do with your life?"

"What the hell are you going to do with _your_ life? Berkley ain't going to teach you how to live, man."

True enough, and the closer he got to graduation the more Trowa wondered about that. His parents wanted him to go to law school, his profs recommended grad school for history, and Trowa just wanted to do whatever meant he didn't have to make any decisions that would ruin his future.

"Life is unwritten, man. 'Specially the future. Tomorrow ain't gonna go away if I don't make plans for it."

"I can't live without plans."

Duo smirked.

"You think scribbling shit into boxes and checking off your to do list is living?"

"What else would I do?"

Duo groaned.

"Jesus, Snoopy. You'd fucking live. You ain't gotta follow the path or whatever the fuck they lay out for you. Hell, paths are fucking lame anyway. You just gotta -"

Trowa pulled Duo close and kissed him.

Duo froze, his whole body tense and Trowa felt Duo's fingers dig into his wrist for a moment before Duo relaxed and kissed him back, opening his mouth, his tongue tangling with Trowa's until they were both breathing heavily and Duo's hands were gripping Trowa's ass and pulling his body close.

"Like that," Duo said with a grin when they finally pulled away to breath. "You can't just follow a schedule your whole life."

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

"How do you know I didn't have that scheduled?"

Duo stared at him for a long moment and then laughed, a deep, rich laugh that made Trowa smirk.

"Alright, alright," Duo said once he had regained control of himself. "I'll give you that one, Snoopy."

-o-

Duo came back to the class just before Thanksgiving break, and he greeted Trowa with a salute when he walked into the classroom. Trowa was so surprised that he walked into a desk and Duo sighed and shook his head while the prof arched an eyebrow at him.

Just like the last time Duo sat in on the class, Trowa was completely unable to focus on anything but him, and when the class ended Trowa waited around while Duo talked to the prof.

"Coffee?" He asked Duo once the prof had left.

"Nah."

Duo was looking at him intently.

"Oh." Trowa tried not to be disappointed.

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"Seriously, Snoopy," he muttered as he pulled Trowa against him and kissed him. "Where's your dorm room?"

Trowa had insisted on a single for his junior and senior years of college - he had suffered through roommates for the first two years and his parents had agreed that his perfect GPA earned him the right to not deal with a roommate.

He was incredibly grateful, every night when he got home to his room, to not have to deal with the presence or clutter of another person.

That morning, as he locked the door behind himself and pulled Duo close for another kiss, Trowa was even more grateful for the privacy of his own room.

As Duo's hands tugged at his clothes and Trowa tried to untangle Duo's arms and legs from his clothes, he couldn't help but remember that time last year when he had had a guy over and his roommate had walked in on them and freaked out.

He could only imagine what Lance's reaction would be if he could see _this_ - he'd eventually come to terms with the fact that his roommate was gay, had accepted the fact that Trowa wasn't going to molest him in his sleep, but he doubted Lance would be able to wrap his head around the idea of Trowa stripping down a homeless guy and worshipping his body, licking his way across his lean torso, tracing his tattoos with his tongue, swallowing his groans and grunts with his mouth.

Trowa himself was having trouble believing it was real, but the feel of Duo's fingers digging into his hips, the warm, lean body arching into him when Trowa backed them towards the bed - those were real. The deep, throaty sounds of pleasure Duo made when Trowa's cock slid deep inside him were real.

They were real, and they passed far too quickly.

When it was over, when Trowa was laying on his bed watching Duo pull on his clothes, he wished he had made it last longer, wished he had taken more time, had taken the chance to memorize Duo's body.

Duo smirked at him and kissed him on the nose once he was fully dressed.

"Thanks for fitting me into your schedule, Snoopy."

-o-

Finals week was always hell for Trowa, always the time of year when he started to question every decision he made in life and wondered if he was ever going to be able to do something with himself.

And this year, as if to emphasize just how wrong he probably was about those life decisions, San Francisco was going through a cold spell, the weather dropping down to freezing several nights in a row and as Trowa sat huddled in his dorm room wearing all three sweaters he had clean, he wondered about Duo.

He wondered about Duo and he set aside his paper on Meso-America and grabbed the leather jacket his mother had given him over Thanksgiving break.

Duo was at the park, with the rest of them, lounging against a tree while some short haired girl laid on his stomach and read aloud. He had on a sweater, some faded sweatshirt with a basketball on it that looked thin and threadbare even from a distance.

As Trowa approached Duo looked up and caught him eye. He smirked.

"Snoopy."

The girl stopped reading and looked up as well.

"Ohhh. Duo. Really?" There was a note of judgement in her voice as she looked over Trowa.

"He's okay," Duo insisted and stood up, pushing the girl away as he did.

Trowa stood awkwardly and waited for Duo to come up to him.

He couldn't help but notice that Duo looked pale, thin even under the lumpy sweater, his cheeks a little hollow, his eyes and hair a little dull.

"Coffee?"

"If you insist," Duo shrugged.

"I… here." Trowa held out the jacket.

Duo eyed it suspiciously.

"What's this?"

"I think most people call it a jacket. Some might call it a coat."

Duo gave him a look.

"Thanks, man. I always wondered what pricks called things with sleeves and buttons and zippers."

Duo made no move to take it.

"It's for you."

"Why?"

"Because it's cold?"

Duo sighed and gave Trowa a look, a look that seemed to say, _seriously? Are you really this stupid?_

Trowa refused to back down or look away until Duo grabbed the jacket and angrily pulled it on.

Coffee was quiet, tense, and Duo only picked at his brownie, only slowly sipped the coffee and Trowa knew he had fucked up somehow, knew that he had disappointed Duo more than he usually did.

"Do you want to come over?" He asked when they finished. "You could stay the night."

Duo gave him a hard look.

"You trying to domesticate me?"

"No. I… miss you."

Duo snorted and looked away. He shook his head.

"You miss me," he echoed. "What exactly do you _miss_ about me, Snoopy? My stunning good looks or my Miss America worthy personality?"

Trowa scowled.

Duo pushed away from the table and picked up the nearly untouched brownie.

"I gotta go," he muttered and this time, as he left Philz, he did not look over his shoulder.

-o-

It was two in the morning and Trowa had just finished his last essay, had just decided that either it was good enough or he would fail and just go get a job at McDonald's but either way his brain was empty and his fingers numb with the cold and the hours spent typing and he was _done_.

The knock on his door was soft, almost just a scratch against the wood, and if Trowa had still had his headphones on, had still been listening to Rachmaninov, he wouldn't have heard it at all.

He opened the door and there was Duo, scowling, his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes looking anywhere but at Trowa's face.

Trowa stepped aside and let him come in.

He couldn't help but notice that Duo was not wearing the jacket.

Duo caught his narrowed gaze.

"Hilde was colder than me," he muttered. "You want me to pay you back for it? Want me to blow you or something to make up for -"

"No," Trowa interrupted him, angry. Furious.

Duo saw his anger and offered him a bitter grimace of a smile.

"Oh, Snoopy, look at you all righteous over the idea that your charity was wasted."

"It wasn't charity and that's not why I'm pissed."

Duo arched an eyebrow and then he shrugged, his hands still in his pockets.

"Then what? I came, didn't I? Showed up like the good little pet you want."

Trowa stared at him and realized there was no point - no point in arguing, no point in telling Duo that he was angry because this wasn't a transaction, he didn't want to buy Duo or - all he wanted was for Duo to want him.

"I'm tired," he said.

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"Did you want to sleep here?"

Duo glanced at the bed, and then at the door and he bit his lip and shrugged.

Trowa arched his own eyebrow.

"Do you have a prior engagement to get to instead?"

Duo rolled his eyes and his lips twitched.

"Oh, fuck right off, Snoopy," he muttered.

Trowa got into the bed and scooted close to the wall and watched as Duo pulled off his boots, his jeans and his sweater before climbing into the bed wearing the same faded gray boxers Trowa had pulled off his narrow hips weeks ago, the last time Duo had been in his bed.

Trowa waited until Duo had climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets up before he turned off the light.

He shifted, tried to get comfortable, tried to be close to Duo without touching him.

"What the _fuck?" _Duo hissed. "Are those your fucking feet or are those ice cubes?"

"My feet."

"Jesus, man," Duo grumbled and he curled into a ball, pressing his back against Trowa's front and curling his legs away from Trowa's feet.

Trowa hesitated, but then he ghosted his hand over Duo's body and reached for his right hand. Duo tangled their fingers together.

-o-

Spring Semester meant the beginning of the end for Trowa - it meant that this time next year he needed to know what the hell he was going to do with his life, grad school or law school or McDonald's and he was equally ambivalent about all three options.

The first week of classes seemed to drag by, seemed to feel like Freshmen year all over again while at the same time feeling like the scariest, most challenging possible courses he could have taken.

Friday, after his last class, he went down to the park, hoping to find Duo.

He saw the girl - Hilde, it had to be - wearing the leather jacket he had given Duo back in December.

She looked over at him, scowled and muttered something to Fei, sitting beside her on the ground under one of the trees.

The Chinese man stood up and walked over.

"What?" He demanded.

Trowa wanted to roll his eyes. Duo might say that _he_ needed to work on his people skills, but Fei seemed to be so disgusted with humanity in general that it wasn't even worth the effort to form a sentence.

"I was looking for Duo," Trowa admitted.

Fei's lips tightened.

"Not here."

Trowa looked around.

"I said he's not here," Fei growled.

"I heard you," Trowa snapped and then took a step back when Fei's eyes narrowed.

Fei sneered.

"Then fucking get lost."

"I can wait for him."

"You'll be waiting a long fucking time. He's gone."

"What do you mean gone?"

"I mean he's _gone_, asshole. Been gone since before Christmas."

The words hit Trowa like a blow, taking away his breath and his thought.

Fei shook his head.

"What? You thought you had some happily ever after romance bullshit? Some chance to save him from whatever the fuck? Some vision of the future that -"

Trowa punched him.

Fei's eyes narrowed even further and he wiped at the blood on his lip.

"You better walk the fuck away right now," Fei said, his voice low.

Trowa realized that a group had formed, realized that he was outnumbered and he remembered what Duo had said about Fei helping him hide his body.

Fei shoved Trowa in the chest and Trowa stumbled back a step.

"Get the fuck outta here," Fei snapped.

Trowa turned and he ran. He ran all the way back to his dorm room and he slammed the door shut and he leaned against it, winded and furious and he felt the cold, wet trail of tears on his cheeks.

He wiped at them angrily.

Fuck this.

Fuck Duo.

Fuck Fei.

Fuck everything.

He sank down to his knees and he wrapped his arms around himself and he struggled to breathe.

What the hell had he expected anyway?

Life wasn't some movie, wasn't some two hour story about two lost souls finding each other and the world becoming perfect overnight.

Life was deciding whether or not he should go to grad school or law school or get a job at McDonald's.

Trowa closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door.

Or was it?

_Life is unwritten_, Duo had said.

So maybe Trowa should stop trying to write it.


End file.
